I am writing this from a boy's perspective

I cannot remember but some very

traumatic instances are etched in my mind. 

I took a massive stroke that almost

killed me and left me in a wheelchair paralyzed

 with no long-term memory erased. The boy's

 perspectives were written before my stroke 

so you will have to take my word so wilL I as 

I have no memory.  I am going to write this

from a boy's eye and a disabled no mind's eye like writing from two lifetimes boy-man and vice-versa.

I suffer from brain injury aphasia-aphantasia, my

 left brain they say was erased, wiped my hard

 drive so it might seem cold but I have

 no emotional engineering, I can't remember my

 childhood marriage, and three it's as if forty-five

 years never happened. photographs are

my memory so I'll show you images as my mind 

is blank at times, from short term, I will try to 

make to save on my blog in long term. I can't 

cling to memory.

 I never felt the beat of my heart until 

I was six years old, then it beat like 

a bodhran drum I held the mobile stair-

case and my mother's hand like the branch 

of a tree when falling. Six years cocooned

in my mother's love and security.

Looking up at the giant steel bird, I couldn't

comprehend how it stayed gravity for me was

a breeze block was thrown up to fall on my head

like this an experiment without blood.

We were going to my father's bastard town

the one he ran from aged fifteen to reinvent

himself and lie his way through life. he was

so dark and deep. the story goes he was left

on a doorstep.

you couldn't trust the conman he was so bent.

i think he won over my mother's good heart

for the six years we moved town, the school

he was running from his lying past.

There are rumours of east end of london

ganglands were gunning for him, why would

you run back to a bastard town you ran from.

N.I.was probably the best place to hide during

the trouble why go to war torn streets in 67'.

Somuch i dont know even my name he used 6

different names, a family of 6 kids born in

a different english city or town. he is buried up

on the black hillsin a plotless we cant find, he died

as he a lonely liar. hewalked out on two little girls

and amother dying of cancer, those girls searched

for thirty years and my mother never knew of them.

i dont want him tosmother this piece but there is so 

much i dont know here is my view.